


Numb

by kronette



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel bought out LexCorp and closed the plant in Smallville. Lex was left with the fallout, and chooses a new destiny for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Originally completed March 2003 and posted under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

All he wanted was a simple thank you. A kind word tossed his way. Something that showed he mattered to someone. Anyone. 

It was something his money couldn’t buy. 

It was something he began to desperately need. 

It was becoming clear that it was something he would never get. 

Jonathan Kent pushed against his chest, forcing him off the porch. “You’re no longer welcome here. I won’t allow you to hurt this family ever again.” 

Allow him. As if Lex wanted things to turn out like this. As if this were his plan for Smallville. He stumbled to his car, not daring to look back at the Kent house, not able to stomach the disappointment twisting Jonathan’s face. His surrogate family, the one place he felt comfortable letting slip the mask of Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp. It was his last refuge. His final attempt to make peace, and it had been thrown back in his face. 

He had nowhere else to go. He sat in the Ferrari, staring out the windshield. A gentle breeze rustled the corn in the fields. The sky was crisp and endless blue. He saw none of it, felt nothing as he turned the key in the ignition and tore down the road back toward the castle. 

Lionel had bought out LexCorp. The purchase of LexCorp itself wouldn’t have been newsworthy; after all, they had traded ownership of it for three years. But this time, his father was out for blood. The fertilizer plant was closing its doors forever, and twenty-five hundred Smallville residents were out of work. It was Lionel’s punishment for his son’s insolence. Lex had the audacity to care for his employees. Rousing them to fight for their own destinies was an unforgivable sin in his father’s eyes.

Lex had not thought their destinies would lead to this. Independence should not come at such a high cost. His people didn’t deserve to lose their jobs. LexCorp stock had risen on the NYSE, Lex’s expansion plan churning along smoothly until it hit the road block that was Lionel Luthor. He had been making a profit, earning his own money instead of accepting his father’s. Going back to living by Lionel’s purse-strings and emotional blackmail was more than he could stand. He felt worse for his employees, who trusted him with their homes, their lives, their futures. Lex couldn’t offer a reprieve; all his assets were tied up in the company his father now controlled. He was quite literally at his father’s mercy, someplace he had never wanted to be. 

~~~

The day after the announcement of the plant closure, the newspapers were merciless. The blame was placed solely on Lex’s shoulders, the buyout barely mentioned in the attacks. He had gotten used to seeing his name accompanied by grudging respect. He was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion that slammed him between the eyes at the typewritten words, “Lex proved yesterday that he is in fact a Luthor, complete with ice water for blood and a damning lack of concern for the lives he’s destroyed.” The Torch was only a high school paper, and Chloe Sullivan only a senior, but he thought her a friend. Her scathing article cut deep, opening old wounds he thought healed over. Her betrayal hurt more than he wanted to examine. 

Unable to stand the stifling air of the castle, he ventured out into town. He tried to ignore insults hurled at him as he drove down Main Street. Then he recognized voices and faces; his employees. His employees. He understood their anger, but didn’t they know him? Didn’t he prove his unflagging devotion to Smallville, the plant, and their success? Didn’t they know he was just as upset as they were? 

He parked behind The Talon and flinched as he walked through the door and conversation came to an abrupt halt. Children of his employees sat huddled together, some glaring at him, others crying, all of them blaming him for their parents’ anger and tears. He prepared his defense, but the simmering hatred buffeting him held his tongue. They were not of a mind to hear his explanations, nor care if he had any. He searched out Lana, trying to pin her with his gaze, but she avoided him, deliberately turning her back on him even though no customer sat at the counter.

He turned and quickly left the coffeehouse. He jerked back as someone bumped him deliberately, spinning him on the sidewalk. The man cursed him and threatened him with a fist, but his friend pulled him back, warning not to be “tainted by Luthor blood.” It hit Lex low in the gut, and may as well have been a fist. Was it possible that everyone believed the news reports? Was the town truly that small-minded? He teased Clark about it being Smallville before, but this was beyond inconceivable. 

Blinded by tears he would not acknowledge, he made it back to his car and headed toward the castle. He felt like he’d been violated. Defiled was too light a word for the mass of emotions churning in his stomach. He felt truly alone in the universe, not for the first time, but now that he’d tasted what it felt like to belong, to be part of a community, it was like he was being ripped apart. 

He made it back to the castle in record time, shutting himself inside for the rest of the day. He needed to gather himself; to shore up his emotional walls. He had to show them it didn’t affect him. He had to show them the unemotional mask, letting them know their petty hatred couldn’t touch him. It took him the better part of the day to feel remotely like himself again, after downing half a bottle of single malt. 

He looked at the phone log his assistant left him, searching for a familiar name from town. Any familiar name. Reporters, news hounds, corporate sharks all clamored for a piece of him – but he didn’t find what he was looking for. He crumbled the list and tossed it in the trash. He went to bed early, denying the urge to drink until he passed out. 

The next day he tried going into town again, checking his accounts at the bank, purchasing some flowers; normal, innocuous things. He was met with glares, pointed fingers and whispered words. Each one another slice deep in his soul. Each one another impenetrable scab around his heart. The mask slipped further into place, and the sick feeling in his gut started to subside. 

By the following day, he had his glare perfected. He sneered at those who still dared to curse at him, though his stomach did a slow roll when it was one of his employees. He didn’t stay in town very long; just enough to prove to himself it was a futile effort. What he was looking for didn’t exist. 

He slid behind the wheel of the Lamborghini and pointed it toward home. His mindless driving took him up a familiar route, and he stopped halfway up the drive to the Kent’s. He walked slowly the rest of the way, the absence of the truck in the yard confirming the quiet of the farm – the Kents were not home. Not three days ago, Jonathan Kent forbade him from stepping foot on Kent soil ever again. He idly thought of scuffing his Italian loafers in the dirt lane, just to be petty. His eyes roamed the landscape, the bright yellow farmhouse setting cheerfully at the head of the property. The livestock were in the higher pasture, though he could not hear them. He did hear tinny music drifting down from overhead, and assumed Clark was in the barn. Clark, who he had not seen nor spoken to in almost five days. Sentimentality washed over him as he gazed up at the barn opening, remembering times when he and Clark just stared out at the stars, contemplating their place in the universe. 

He found himself at the familiar steps and began to climb them, finally recognizing the music as a favorite song from a few years ago. The scent of hay and Clark mingled together in a comforting assault to his senses. He reached the top of the steps and paused, staring over at Clark. 

His head was in his hands, but at the light footfall, Clark raised his head. “Lex.” 

Clark made no effort to move, so Lex took the final step and crossed the floor to the opening, staring out at the land he thought of as his. Clark’s telescope was off to the side, a light coating of dust signaling the young man’s interest in more down-to-earth things. Nothing stood in the way of his view, and he took a long, deep breath. He heard shuffling and Clark joined him, but he refused to look at the boy, now a man. Lionel didn’t think of the consequences of closing a small-town plant, but Lex did. People would be forced to move to the city to find work. Small business would fold, like Kent’s Organic Produce. Clark was to graduate in a few weeks, but college would probably not be in his future, scholarship or no. 

The thickness in Clark’s voice drew his attention to what his friend was saying. “…Sorry, Lex. My dad said I can’t come by the castle anymore. You understand, right? He’s just upset about the plant and…stuff. It’s going to be really hard on the town. We can still be friends, though.”

Three years ago, they stood in almost the exact same spots, and Lex proclaimed their friendship to be the stuff of legend. His filling eyes traversed the waves of corn that were oblivious to the carnage being wreaked inside him. His carefully constructed mask threatened to break, his eyes threatened to spill over, but he would not give in. He would not give them the satisfaction. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, turned on his heel, and walked out of the barn, his intent never to return. 

It was when he returned to the castle that he realized he had not uttered a single word in three days. The fact that he could be spoken to by so many people, but had not felt the need to respond in any way, told him more than he ever needed to know. His father found it a fitting punishment to keep him in Smallville to face his accusers; to live down to the vitriol they spewed about him. He thought it would harden Lex; toughen his skin, mold him into an extension of Lionel Luthor, corporate shark. 

It worked. 

Three years of befriending the townsfolk, trying to help when he could, attending social functions, offering financial support when necessary – all attempts at fitting in obliterated within the space of a week. Three days of searching for a friendly face and finding none. 

Lex spent the next four days locked in the castle, mulling over the decisions of the past three years, weighing them on a ruthless business scale. He grew appalled when he realized how much he had given up for the Kents, for the town, for Clark, and how little he had received in return. 

When his father returned exactly one week after the announcement, his decision was made for him. Lionel entered the castle, flicked a gaze over him, and ordered the helicopter to take them both back to Metropolis that afternoon. 

Eyes hard and cold, feeling nothing but satisfaction at a business transaction concluded successfully, Lex exited the LuthorCorp boardroom alongside his father. The Smallville plant would be razed in a month, and a hotel complex would be built in its absence. The highway connected close enough to the property that a tourist spot would be profitable, with the right advertisement. Lex knew all about spinning the truth from his good friend Clark Kent; he would personally oversee the advertising campaign. “Smallville-Meteor Capital of the World” would soon be headlining next to such tacky traps as “World’s Biggest Teflon-Coated Frying Pan.” 

Lionel gave him the office down the hall from his own; the second largest in the building, befitting the Vice President of Marketing Strategy. Lionel began trusting him with larger projects, worthwhile of his efforts. Offering families the bottom line for their property ceased to be an issue. Heartfelt pleas were ignored from Kansas to Kentucky. Emotion was cut off to ensure that business was attended to. He earned the praise his father finally bestowed on him, though he had no place for it in his life. 

~~~

Two years passed in the blink of an eye. Lex was respected in the business community, compared less and less to the senior Luthor as the months wore on. He attended the right parties, was seen with the right people, and became a man in good standing in society circles. Being known as the most eligible bachelor in Metropolis for the previous year and a half had grown tiresome. It took him little time to find a suitable partner. Julia Pennyworth was a shrewd woman, striking in appearance, and raised with the same business-minded future as Lex. She was more than amenable to becoming the third Mrs. Lex Luthor.

Their courtship and engagement spanned all of six months, cumulating with Julia moving into the penthouse atop the newly built LuthorCorp Tower #2. They stood side by side at the windows, surveying their kingdom. Theirs would be a marriage of convenience; their combined families would make Lex one of the richest men in the country, and she one of the most powerful women. When the time came for him to need an heir, Julia would be agreeable. He offered her a chaste kiss and twined their hands together, the only sign of affection needed. Love was not a necessity in their marriage. 

The wedding was set for May, just before the heat of summer became too intense. The attendants and guests would be business associates and immediate family. She had few friends; Lex had none. He understood now that he had no time or energy to waste on such foolishness. The world awaited his arrival. 

~~~

Smallville was three years behind him now, and he earned his position on the cover of Forbes as ‘the one to watch’ in the new world market. Executive Vice President in more than title only, he held as much power as Lionel had wielded in his heyday. 

It was not his chosen life. It was thrust upon him by close-minded simpletons who lost their homes to the conglomerate that was LuthorCorp. Smallville was popular in a way it never wanted: strip clubs and casinos lined what once was quaint farmland. The Talon was three years gone, replaced by a trendy over-21 club. As Las Vegas was an oasis in the desert, Smallville was an oasis in fields of corn. 

Another foreclosure notice crossed his desk, but as he was signing it, he paused at the familiar name. The Kent farm finally succumbed to progress. He finished his signature and sent the paperwork to Legal, not sparing another thought to the Kents. 

Lex and Julia’s wedding was the social event of the decade. Every media outlet was present. High-ranking city officials, CEOs and philanthropists crowded into St. Matthew’s Cathedral in downtown Metropolis to see the Luthor and Pennyworth families joined. In Style Weddings ran a six page spread on the reception alone. They dedicated one page to the four-carat blue diamond surrounded by a circle of half-carat diamonds that sparkled on the bride’s hand. The new Mr. and Mrs. Lex Luthor made the rounds as though they were at any normal party, instead of their wedding reception. Deals were secured, new contacts made, promises dallied with until the wee hours, when Lex and his wife boarded a plane for a small island in the Mediterranean. Their honeymoon was orchestrated as any business deal, beneficial and pleasurable on both sides. Safe sex was practiced liberally, when sex came into it at all, so as not to disrupt their long-term plans. 

Upon their return to Metropolis, Lex oversaw the hostile takeover of LuthorCorp and subsequent ousting of his father as CEO, Chairman and President. Lionel didn’t seem all that surprised by the move, and if Lex didn’t know better, seemed actually pleased his son had the balls to do it. Promptly renaming the new company LexCorp, Lex settled into the life his father always wanted for him. 

~~~

Deals seemed to come together miraculously. His business acumen was renowned throughout the tri-state area. Business associates started to hint that he might be successful in politics. He gave it considerable thought. LexCorp was running smoothly. Julia didn’t just play at the business-savvy wife; she was his equal, complimenting his style with her own. Their life was good, but Lex wanted to be great. 

At dinner that night, Lex broached the subject. “They’ve been suggesting a run at the mayor’s office again,” he began calmly. 

Julia didn’t bother to look up. “You know my opinion already, Lex. It could catapult us into world visibility. Metropolis is just the start; Kansas but a stepping stone.” When he didn’t answer right away, she regarded him with narrowed eyes. “You’re seriously thinking about it now, aren’t you?” 

He sighed and tossed his napkin onto the table. “LexCorp is no longer a challenge. I need something more. Something bigger. This might be the direction to go.” 

Her ambition was as driven as his own, and he saw the hunger in her eyes as she speculated how far he could go. “Imagine what you could do for this city. For Kansas.” 

He smirked and proposed, “Why not the whole country? President Luthor has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

Her dilated pupils locked on his gaze. Sexual tension sizzled across the table, her lust for power matching his own. 

He shoved the remains of dinner onto the floor as she ripped his shirt open, mouth hot and demanding on his. He pulled himself onto the table, watching with heated eyes as Julia snapped his belt through its loops, tugged down his zipper and freed his cock. Her hand expertly stroked the shaft as she took the head in her mouth, her tongue probing the slit. He groaned and rocked his hips, sliding deeper. No finesse to her technique, just brutal efficiency that got him hard and wet. She released him with a soft pop, wiping her mouth and smearing her lipstick across her cheek. 

He followed the path from high cheekbone to mouth, his tongue thick and probing. He tore at her dress, ripping it halfway off her shoulder. She groaned as he abandoned her mouth for the silk of her skin, laving her collarbone with his tongue. He mouthed up the smooth column of throat, sucking gently so as not to leave a mark. His hands were rougher deep inside her dress, palms flattening her breasts. She arched into his touch, hair falling out of the delicate chignon to fan around her face. 

Bracing himself, he pulled her up to straddle him, giving him the perfect angle to suckle her breasts. He held a tight nub between his teeth, waiting until he heard her tell-tale mewl. His hand slipped under her dress and pushed aside her panties, finding her sex dripping wet and ready for him. He thumbed her clit as he pushed two fingers deep inside her, ordering her to ride him on a whispered breath against her skin. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders as she obeyed, lifting and rubbing against him until she shuddered with release. He drew down her panties until they pooled at her ankles, then sucked her juices from his fingers and lay back, drawing her atop him. Still trembling from her orgasm, he entered her in one swift stroke. She gasped as he filled her, and he groaned as he felt the slight contractions around his cock. He grasped her hips and thrust hard, eyes locked on the sway of her breasts. She gripped him internally and he nearly bit through his tongue at the agonizing torture. Her lips pushed his open, tongue darting out to catch the bit of blood. 

She began to move, and he followed her lead. No tender love-making; this was animalistic need, desire at its most base, lust at its most primitive. She rode him hard, fingertips digging deeply into his skin, driving him further down onto the hard table. She leaned forward to bite his chest, mark it, and he wrapped her hair around his hands, forcing her head down, feeling her teeth break skin. A hoarse cry of pleasure ripped from his throat unexpectedly, and he heard her breathless laugh in his ear. 

With a growl, he yanked on her hair and plundered her mouth, no longer caring about leaving a mark. His teeth closed on the flesh of her throat and she moaned deeply as she clutched at him. A rush of power helped him sit up, keeping his cock firmly entrenched inside his wife as he rolled them over. She moaned and shuddered as he shifted inside her, finally settling between her wide-spread thighs. He braced his hands on either side of her head and plunged his cock deep into her. She moaned again, a hint of pain giving it a coarse edge. He drove deep again, changing the angle, keeping her off-balance. She writhed beneath him, nails raking his skin and raising welts. His hips took on a more bruising force, driving deeply, feeling her shake beneath him. 

Breath wheezed out of him as he taunted, “Will it be like this in the Oval Office? Do you want to be splayed out on the most important desk in the world, taken by your husband?” 

She mewled again as she met his thrusts, almost to the edge. He pushed her over with a gasped, “Mrs. President.” She contracted around his cock in wild spasms, thrashing beneath him like an untamed animal.

President Luthor, leader of the most powerful nation in the world. They would make it happen. He thrust deep once more and came with the word, “President,” on his lips. 

Three weeks later, Julia met him at the door with the simple words, “I’m pregnant.” 

He took the news calmly. It wasn’t part of their plan, but a pregnancy showed a loving relationship and a steady home life, something that could be used to their advantage in a campaign. And once the baby arrived, nurses and tutors could be provided twenty-four hours a day, every day, all year, every year. He presented the idea to Julia, stating their time was now. If they wanted the Presidency, now was the time to put the plan into motion. He needed political experience, and he knew the Republican Party was looking for a solid mayoral candidate. 

Two weeks later, Lex Luthor’s campaign manager announced his bid for mayor. Metropolis was buzzing with the news, elevating Lex and Julia beyond their previous near-celebrity status. The Luthor name was frequently linked with the Kennedy’s in news reports, and his victory was a given. 

He received an unexpected calling card the day after he was announced as the Republican Party nomination for mayor. Morbid curiosity found him returning the call to an address in the poor part Metropolis. He ordered his driver to stay with the limo as he approached the small house, stepping around the litter on the sidewalk. 

He debated actually touching the doorbell when the decision was taken from him. The door opened to reveal Clark Kent, eyes wide with surprise. “Lex. You actually came down here.” 

He inflected his voice with enough disdain to let Clark know this section of Metropolis was definitely beneath a Luthor. “I had to know what would make you contact me after all these years.” His tone caused Clark to flinch, and he assessed the downward cast of Clark’s eyes with cool detachment. 

Clark’s voice was much less sure as he asked quietly, “Do you want to come in?” 

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “No,” he replied with no apology. “Say whatever it is you think you have to say to me. I’m a busy man. In case you didn’t notice, I’m running for mayor.” 

“I think I heard something about that on the radio,” Clark said sarcastically. It seemed to boost his confidence. He squared his shoulders and looked Lex in the eye. “Why did you turn your back on Smallville?” 

The question caught him off-guard, but he was well-practiced in hiding any visible signs of surprise. “Isn’t it a bit late to be having this conversation, Clark?” Lex retorted, voice calm and even. “I left Smallville nearly six years ago.” 

Eyes blazing in anger, Clark snapped, “I was a little busy trying to save the farm. You remember, the one you signed the foreclosure papers on? Why didn’t you try to stop it?” 

He shrugged as he flicked his gaze around the yard, keeping an eye out for any dangers. One could never be too careful in this part of Metropolis, even with a bodyguard/chauffer less than ten feet away. “Why would I stop progress, Clark? I made Smallville the fourth largest gambling city in America. More property only added to the profit margin.” 

“LuthorCorp ruined Smallville, Lex!” Clark cut in, eyes blazing in anger. “Good people lost their homes. My dad –“ Lex watched impassively as Clark’s eyes filled with tears, and then blinked them away. “Why did you turn your back on Smallville?” he repeated. 

He felt the scabs that he’d all but forgotten around his heart tighten. Why now? Why did Clark care? He leveled Clark with an icy gaze. “Smallville turned its back on me,” he answered. 

Crestfallen was the only word to describe Clark’s expression. “You changed so much, Lex. What happened? I know it was hard on you when your father closed the plant. But then you just disappeared without a word to anyone.” 

He felt an ironic laugh bubble in his chest, but only allowed a small smirk to showcase his amusement. It was true; he left Smallville without a word to anyone. Not for lack of trying, and not because he sequestered himself away. He remembered those three days of attempted connection, and everyone’s refusal, including the man in front of him. A glint of steel laced his words. “I saw no need to stay in Smallville once my education was finished. I took my rightful place at my father’s side.” 

Confused green eyes stared at him. “I thought you hated everything your father stood for.” 

His smirk blossomed to a smile. “That’s the thing. I did hate what my father stood for. But Smallville showed me how futile it was to try to change. I was born a Luthor, I would die a Luthor, and it was pointless to fight my destiny.” 

Clark looked so sincere as he pleaded, “That isn’t true. You always fought against what your dad wanted. You didn’t want to be like him.” 

His smile mutated to the one reserved for CEOs he ate for breakfast over buyout papers. “I couldn’t fight the whole town on top of my father. A man can only fight for so long before he gives in to the inevitable.” 

Confusion clouded the jade-green eyes. “What are you talking about? Smallville wasn’t against you. I wasn’t against you.” 

He quirked an eyebrow and recited what he had tucked away in his brain a long time ago. “Really? Perhaps you weren’t around that last week I was in Smallville. I couldn’t go into a store without being snarled at. I couldn’t even drive down the street without someone yelling after me. Your own father told me to get off his property. No one bothered to find out the truth in what happened. No one cared if my father wrangled LexCorp from me. No one asked if it was my decision to close the plant. The Torch didn’t bother to call me to get the facts; Chloe published the rumors and speculation with no qualms on how it might have affected me. I was convicted and sentenced without a trial. Your beloved Smallville was nothing more than a petty little town, prejudiced against anyone named Luthor.” 

He kept his gaze on Clark as the young man paled, words forming but no sound coming forth. “I see you can’t actually deny it, because you were just as guilty as the rest. You claimed we could still be friends, but I don’t recall you defying your father to visit me. You weren’t in The Talon after school when I attempted to show my face in public. Just because you turned a blind eye to what I was experiencing, doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening.”

His sarcasm seemed to snap Clark out of his stupor. “You didn’t exactly open up to me the last time we spoke, Lex. You didn’t say anything about your treatment by the town, or by my father. How was I supposed to do something when I didn’t know about the problem to begin with?” 

He admitted to himself it was a catch-22, but friends were supposed to ask how the other was doing, especially when the friend’s lifelong dream of his own company is ripped away by his father. “I didn’t think I would have to, Clark,” he said, keeping his voice flat to betray no emotion. “You saw the same headlines I did. You knew how I felt about my father. You knew how much LexCorp meant to me. And you knew how your father regarded me, random acts of magnanimous kindness notwithstanding. The last time we spoke, you told me you couldn’t see me again. No offers to listen, no queries to my state of well-being. No concern whatsoever for me. In my eyes, that solidified our friendship. I was a convenient friend when things went right, but you sided with the town when things went bad.” 

Silence followed his monologue, as he watched dozens of emotions cross Clark’s face. “That’s not true,” Clark whispered, though Lex could see the horrible truth shining in his former friend’s gaze. 

Lex had hoped that maybe he remembered things incorrectly. Maybe time had colored his perceptions of that week, and his friend. Apparently, his memory was in perfect working order. “I could have forgiven everything, overlooked once again the town’s hatred of me, if only I had gotten one simple thing. A token. A small gesture.” 

Anger once again flared in Clark’s eyes; straightened his stance. “What? What was it you were looking for? What was it we couldn’t give you that you felt you had to destroy the town when you didn’t get it?” 

He kept his gaze impassive, though it took some effort to reign in his temper. “I’d argue the point that I didn’t destroy Smallville, but I know we have vastly differing opinions on what warrants a success in business.” He met Clark’s gaze without flinching, and finally said the hopes he buried behind the walls of his heart. “I wanted an apology for accusations I bore that proved untrue. I wanted a kind word spoken to me without a parent’s prompting. I wanted conversation that didn’t have an ulterior motive behind it. I wanted to be thanked for something other than killing a man.” 

He continued, ignoring the stunned, nauseated expression on Clark’s face. “They say that children of abusive parents eventually believe the lies their parents tell them. If the child listens to the hate, the degradation, the bullying long enough, they start to believe it. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Smallville has no one to blame but itself for its perceived destruction.” 

He turned and strode back to the limo, sliding into the back and flipping through the notes he’d left on the seat. He had a meeting with his campaign manager that afternoon regarding his approval rating, and he always prepared before entering into any meeting. 

He spared one last glance back at Clark, still standing like a lost child on his porch. Illusions were best shattered at once, like ripping off a band-aid. Quick, bright pain bled easily into acceptance. Lex didn’t need a simple thank you or a kind word. He had everything money could buy, a wife, a child on the way, and a political career on the horizon. He mattered to the only person that meant anything to him: himself. 

He returned his gaze to his notes as the limo merged onto the highway, taking him back downtown to the penthouse.

The End


End file.
